


Short Cut

by shieldings



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Haircuts, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldings/pseuds/shieldings
Summary: In the bathroom late at night, Tara does something impulsive.  Raven is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Raven/Tara Markov
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48





	Short Cut

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a scene for a while, but I'm only just writing it down!

Tears are dripping down her nose and into the sink while the bathroom light buzzes deafeningly. It feels like her whole face is full of them, swollen and salty. Tara looks up at the mirror. Her eyes are red and puffy, shadowed by long blond hair hanging over them. It sticks to her face, clinging to the tear streaks on her cheeks and chin.

There’s a cabinet behind the mirror. It’s got basic stuff: headache pills, shaving cream, band-aids. She slides it open with a rattle and pulls out the black scissors from next to the tube of disinfectant.

She grabs a fistful of her long bangs _(yanking upward until she’s forced to meet that eye)_ and cuts through it: it takes a few tries, since the scissors are dull and her hair is thick. The discarded hair falls into the sink like a clump of straw. She keeps at it ferociously, sawing when just squeezing the handles together isn’t enough. It itches against her neck, brushes against her open mouth (breathing heavily, like in a battle).

She becomes so absorbed in this (somehow violent) that she doesn’t hear the propped door creak open.

“Tara? What are you doing?” Tara turns and another clump of hair falls to the floor. Raven is standing at the door in her flannel granny nightgown, looking at her with a concerned expression.

“It was getting too long. Felt like it was time for a change,” Tara says lamely.

“You cut your ear,” Raven says.

Tara lifts a hand to her ear and feels warm blood. “I guess I did,” she says. “Whoops.”

Raven steps into the bathroom and brushes the butchered hair away from Tara’s ear. “Do you want me to heal it?” she asks.

Tara’s had a little experience with Raven’s healing. She knows that Raven always gets a taste of what whoever she’s healing is feeling when she does it, and Tara really doesn’t feel like sharing the congealed mass in her chest right now. She shakes her head.

“I understand,” Raven says. She turns to the cabinet and pulls out the little box of gauze patches and medical tape. “I’m going to cover it up whether you want me to or not, though.”

Tara nods. “That’s fine.”

Raven wets a paper towel and dabs gently at the wound. It’s cold and it stings enough to make Tara wince a little. “I’m probably going to have to cover your whole ear,” she says. “The patches are too big and I’m not sure I’d even be able to tape one to just the top part.”

Once the cut is covered, Raven lingers for a moment on Tara’s hair. She does it so delicately, her slender hands sliding over the lopsided edges. “If it’s time for a change… If it’s too long, can I help? I cut my own hair, so I should be able to even it out a bit.”

“Um, okay,” Tara says, suddenly feeling very shy.

Raven nods curtly. “I have better scissors in my room. I’ll get them. Stay here.” She turns and leaves, her bare feet slapping softly against the tiled floor.

Tara takes a deep breath once she’s sure Raven can’t hear her. In the mirror, she’s still red-eyed and ragged-looking. Like a mangy dog _(bitch)._ Somehow, though, the tears have waned.

“I’m back,” Raven says. She lifts a handful of hair ties, a pair of shiny (but probably cheap) scissors, and a black plastic comb. “Just stand still for a bit, okay?” She steps behind Tara and brushes her hair behind her shoulders.

Tara can feel every movement of Raven’s hands as she combs through her tangled hair (the comb scratching against the back of her neck just so, the electricity when Raven’s fingers brush against her skin). Somehow, the tug of Raven tying her hair into sections doesn’t make her shudder.

“How do you want it to look?” Raven asks. “I always cut mine shorter in the back.”

“Um, normal the whole way around, I guess,” Tara says. Her cheeks feel hot and she realizes, mortified, that Raven can see her expression in the mirror.

“That’s not an answer,” Raven says. “How short? You’ve got it almost to your scalp in some spots.”

“Just short,” Tara says. She didn’t have an image in her head when she’d started chopping. She just wants that hair _gone_ and she doesn’t know why it’s so important to her.

“I won’t cut it as short as I cut Garfield’s, because I don’t have my razor,” Raven says. She cuts Gar’s hair? That’s an interesting development. “Or, do you want me to get it?”

“N-- no, you don’t have to.”

They’re silent for a little bit. The only sounds are the buzzing of the lights (not so upsetting now) and the metal sound of the scissor blades snipping at her hair. The tickle of hair falling away and the slick feeling of the scissors against the back of her neck.

“I’m going to do your bangs now,” Raven says. “Can you turn around so I can get them from the front?”

Tara nods and turns. Raven’s only a little taller than her, but when she’s not meeting Tara’s eyes, intently focused on her forehead, she seems taller. Tara’s never been quite this close to her, and she’s not exactly intimidated, but maybe what she’s feeling is on par with intimidation. Raven’s pale throat and slim jawline definitely have her feeling _something._ A scrap of hair lands on her eyelid and sticks to her lashes, and Raven casually brushes it aside. Tara wants her to do it again.

“Done,” Raven says, and Tara can hear a little pride in her voice. She turns around again and looks in the mirror. Her hair is cropped quite short, only a little longer than Gar’s and a bit shaggier around the ears. It’s not a salon-style haircut, but it’s infinitely better than whatever carnage she’d wreaked on it herself. She lifts a hand and touches it. She realizes that she’s smiling.

“You’re good at this,” she says.

Raven looks to the side, a little pink coloring her cheeks. “I’m glad I could help,” she says.

Tara, overcome by a sudden boldness, wraps her arms around Raven and squeezes. She smells her shampoo (something leafy) and feels the softness of her flannel nightgown. Raven squeezes back, resting her head on Tara’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Tara says into Raven’s hair.

They stay like that for a while. They can vacuum in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed, I need to cut my bangs.


End file.
